


A Tangle of Webs

by SerpentInRed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:32:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentInRed/pseuds/SerpentInRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew that starting a new life would be hard, but she didn't realize the risks that were involved ... until it was too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NerysDax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerysDax/gifts), [LadyMiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiya/gifts).



> **A/N** : So ... this is going to be a short story (not along the amount of chapters that Nerys has for her "short stories" that is). At most four to five chapters.
> 
> Inspiration for Tom's "situation" from Shan84's story, Tertius Vita, and also some bits of inspiration from Chelle's "Deceived." Both of those stories are excellent, so if you haven't read it yet, go read them!
> 
> The Knights of Silence (and some members associated with it) was inspired by Nerys's "The Bittersweet Taste of Victory." If you haven't read that wonderful, wonderful story yet, I strongly urge you to do so.
> 
> ~-0-~
> 
>  
> 
> _Dedicated and written as a birthday gift to my wonderful, wonderful friends and Gutter City sisters, Nerys and Lady Miya._
> 
>  
> 
> ~-0-~

**Chapter 1**

December, 2009

Something was terribly wrong.

It had not mattered to her that Apparition did not work for her, since Hermione Granger had been sure that the answer and the remedy would be in the trustworthy books. Even while she took the underground, she tried to convince to herself that this situation was not going to be permanent. Surely she would find something. Even if she didn't, she could still visit St. Mungo's or perhaps alert the Ministry.

No, not the Ministry. Even though the Ministry had become slightly better after Shacklebolt's leadership, she still didn't trust them enough with this kind of information. She did not fancy being locked up and having experiments performed on her.

Nonetheless, as she stood in the middle of the snow-covered street, staring at the area where the Leaky Cauldron should be standing, her heart sank as realization washed over her.

Just like Harry, she had completely lost her magic.

~-0-~

March, 2007

The morning started off as any other normal day would. The sun shone brightly overhead, flanked by fluffy clouds that drifted lazily across the skies. All in all, it was peaceful, and nothing indicated that it would be otherwise.

Until the first owl delivered the latest edition of the  _Daily Prophet_.

It was not the headlines, nor was the whole article written in bold print. Yet, it was enough to surprise some and shock others.

In a cozy, little flat two blocks away from Diagon Alley, Harry Potter sat at his dining table, reading and rereading his copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  with a frown etched on his forehead. Giving a squeeze on his shoulder, Ginny placed her husband's favorite mug filled with coffee on the table before sitting down next to him.

"Have you talked to Hermione about this at all? Did she even mention that this was going to happen?" Harry asked, finally looking away from the newspaper.

Ginny shook her head slowly. "She seemed stressed out, but I'd thought that it was because she was tired out by work and didn't think that it could've been because of … well, this."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. "You would think that we would've been the first ones to know after they've decided to get a divorce, but we find out through the  _Daily Prophet_  out of all things."

"I tried contacting them with the Floo channel, but they're probably not home right now," Ginny said with uncertainty.

"I'm worried about Ron throwing a fit about this," Harry said, frowning. "I can't see him taking all of this calmly—"

"Unless it was by mutual agreement," Ginny suggested.

Harry stared at her. "But … but I thought they …"

He racked through his brain, trying to catch any hints that would help him understand his two best friends' decision to get a divorce.

"Well, we wouldn't know until we get to talk to them," Ginny said as she picked up the newspaper and quickly skimmed over the contents. "I just find it a bit inconsiderate of the  _Daily Prophet_  to just announce it without properly researching it. This is just a bunch of speculations of why they might get a divorce. Have you read through their theories?"

Harry snorted. "You mean the one about Hermione returning home and finding Ron with four different witches? Or the one with Ron catching Hermione with another witch in her office snogging?"

"This is beyond ridiculous," Ginny said, scrunching up her nose.

"Well, I'm not too surprised about it," Harry replied darkly, remembering his fifth year at Hogwarts.

"The next thing you know it, they will start saying that Hermione and Ron killed each other somewhere deep inside the Forbidden Forest," Ginny said as she glanced at the newspaper again.

"We know how likely that's going to happen because Hermione just can't wait for camping trips," Harry joked, though his smile was humorless.

Ginny laughed weakly, recalling the many times the bushy-haired witch had displayed her abhorrence towards forest and trees after the year-long Horcrux hunting.

Throughout the day, more and more rumors continued to crop up, but no one had caught a glimpse of either Ron or Hermione yet. Friends and family had contacted Harry and Ginny; apparently, nobody had seen them, let alone talked to them.

And Harry and Ginny couldn't help but worry about how things would turn out.

~-0-~

Hermione let out a long, labored breath as she looked around her surroundings. The sounds of someone coming down the stairs made her turn her head, and her eyes met up with the sky blue ones of Ron.

"Hey," he greeted, giving her a weak smile which she returned. "I've packed all my clothes already and sent them over to George's flat first. I don't think sending them back to the Burrow would be a good idea. I think Mum might greet me with a pan over the head."

He rubbed the back of his head as if Mrs. Weasley had already hit him, which caused Hermione to laugh.

"Yeah, I think George might take the news better than your parents," she conceded.

"I left the keys upstairs on the bedside table along with the spare Gringotts key," he said, his eyes wandering nervously and his hand a firm grip on the railing.

"Okay," she answered, not really knowing what else to say.

What did one say to their ex-husbands?

She stood next to the sofa, staring at him carefully. It was completely inappropriate, but she was suddenly reminded of all the moments that they had shared together in this house. Phantom laughter rang loud and clear in her mind, and she almost expected to see Ron's eyes sparkling with mirth when she looked at him. Instead, what she found was a man who seemed to have found himself in the middle of a dilemma. His forehead was creased into a frown and his ears were red, as they usually would be when Ron was under stress.

For the hundredth time that day, Hermione wondered if she had made the right decision to get a divorce with him. Perhaps if they just took some time away from one another, perhaps if they just sat down and talked, everything would go back to the way they were before.

But she knew, deep inside her heart, that that would never happen. Things had changed too much, too long ago.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron suddenly muttered before he rushed down the remaining steps of the stairs, stalked over to Hermione, and pulled her into an embrace. "We're still friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," she replied timidly as tears gathered in her eyes.

She was not going to cry. Nope. Definitely not. It wasn't as if he had dumped her or that she had found him with a different woman as the stupid newspapers had suggested. She had no idea why the news report felt the need to make their divorce public information. Alright, so they were both Harry's friends and were considered war heroes, and she was now in a rather high position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but she did not see why this would appear on the  _Daily Prophet_.

 _Perhaps they couldn't find enough things to fill up their pages without Voldemort around to wreak havoc_ , a snarky voice whispered in her mind but she quickly pushed it away.

That thought shouldn't have even appeared in her mind. It would be dangerous and unfair to Harry. He finally had a peaceful life and a perfect family, and he shouldn't be punished because things weren't going well for her and Ron. Besides, the divorce was a mutual decision, something that they had agreed upon.

They held each other for a while before they pulled away from one another. Alarm flashed over Ron's face when he took in Hermione's appearance.

"Er … you're not going to cry, are you?" he asked, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"No," Hermione immediately said. "No, of course not. It's just … no, I'm not going to cry. Why would I cry about this? I mean … it's just … it's just a divorce and it's not like we hadn't agreed upon this."

"Yeah," Ron replied and nodded his head quickly.

They then fell silent again and glanced off in opposite directions.

"Um … I guess … I better get going. George's going to wonder why boxes of things suddenly appeared in the middle of his living room," Ron said with an uncomfortable smile.

"Right." Hermione nodded. "So …"

"So …" he said at the same time.

They looked at one another and shared a laugh.

"So I'll see you around," Hermione said when she finally got herself under control.

"Yeah, of course. You'll always be welcomed to the Burrow," Ron said.

"Oh, I'm not very sure about that," she said slowly, reminded harshly of the tiny Easter eggs Mrs. Weasley had given her back in fourth year.

"Don't worry about Mum. I'll explain everything to her when things calm down a bit," Ron reassured her.

"Thanks," Hermione said gratefully.

"So … off I go," Ron said with that familiar lopsided smile.

He Disapparated after they've said their good-byes, and Hermione sank down into the sofa, feeling relieved and sad at the same time. She had no idea why she felt sad about this. Perhaps it was because she had hoped that their marriage would've worked out. She had fancied Ron back at Hogwarts, and when he had proposed to her, she had envisioned that they would have a perfect family together. That dream continued to haunt her until a year ago, when she started to understand that it was not going to work out. They had nothing in common at all; there wasn't something there that could've held their marriage in place.

She had no idea when Ron realized this. However, at some point in time, they started to drift further and further apart, until the lack of emotions became glaringly obvious. That was when she finally understood that only their old friendship remained.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the sofa. For a moment, she just wanted to escape from the emptiness that she had once called "home."

~-0-~

The divorce had hurt; she could not deny that, but she knew that that would eventually heal with time. It was definitely nothing compared to the owl she got six month later. The wedding invitation appeared more like a Howler to her, and Hermione Granger finally understood why Ronald Weasley had agreed so easily to a divorce. She had considered not showing up to the wedding of the redhead and Verity, the young witch who worked at Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes. However, in the end, she managed to find the love she'd had for a best friend, went to the wedding, and gave the bride and groom the best of her wishes.

After this whole rollercoaster of a ride, she decided to dedicate her time to work. Wedding and love were obviously overrated, and it wasn't until one and a half year later that her opinion was completely overthrown again. Though she wasn't particularly close with her extended family, they apparently still remembered that they had a relative that went to "boarding school."

The seating arrangement was bizarre. It appeared that Cecilia, her cousin, was marrying into a large family. Though the Grangers had a healthy amount of family members, this was beyond what Hermione could comprehend. The family Cecilia was getting married to—the McQueens—had so many people that just looking at them made Hermione slightly queasy.

"Cecilia's going to have a great time remembering all those names," Hermione's younger sister, Shannon, joked.

Hermione snorted and shook her head. Just then, the chair on the other side of her got pulled out, catching the two girls' attention.

Even though Hermione knew how utterly stupid she looked at the moment and how utterly rude it was to stare, she couldn't stop herself from doing just that.

She had never seen anyone as handsome as the young man standing next to the chair beside her. "Breathtakingly handsome" was the first description that came to her mind and literally so, since she felt her breath catch the moment her eyes took in his features. Hermione could already imagine that amount of girls that would've followed him around if he had attended Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry. I've forgotten to ask: Is there anyone sitting here?" he asked in a smooth, baritone voice.

His question brought Hermione back to earth and out of her daze, and she quickly shook her head.

"No. No, there's no one sitting here," she answered, thankful that she didn't do something undignified while she was busy staring.

Like drooling.

"Thank you," he said.

With impossibly elegant movements, he slid into the chair.

_Did he go to a school or something for that?_

That thought came unbidden to Hermione's mind. Not that the rest of the people from the McQueen family were particularly clumsy or unsophisticated, but there was a certain aristocratic air that accompanied this stranger's every motion, so much that it was a bit unnerving.

Well, hopefully, he wasn't a dark-haired version Malfoy, since she had to sit next to him for the entire night.

Hermione cast a glance at her sister and found the latter looking back at her, awestruck.

Oh my God, Shannon mouthed to her, and Hermione could not agree more.

"I assume you're from Cecilia's family," he suddenly asked with a touch of uncertainty to his voice.

Hermione turned her attention back to him again and nodded slowly.

"Yes … she's my cousin," she replied.

"Ah," he murmured with a nod. "No wonder I've never had the pleasure of meeting you before."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze. She quickly picked up the glass on the table and took a drink out of it, hoping that the ice-cold water would lower the heat of her face.

"I could say the same about you," she said once she swallowed the liquid.

Thankfully, that seemed to work, and she felt more back in control of her features and feelings.

Most importantly, her mind.

According to Ginny, the young Dark Lord had been extremely charming and attractive, something which had made Hermione curious. Even Harry had admitted that Riddle was good-looking. Hermione had thought that she would've finally gotten the chance when she destroyed the cup Horcrux. However, instead of fighting back like all the other Horcruxes had done, it just laid there and splashed water at Ron and her after she stabbed it with the basilisk's fang. Some "precautionary" tactic that was.

Nonetheless, she could only take Harry and Ginny's words for it. After all, the more colorful a snake, the more poisonous it was. Therefore, she always found herself more cautious around handsome men lest they used their looks as a weapon. It was something she would never think about sharing with Harry and Ron, since she felt that they were naturally immune to it, being boys themselves. Not that she didn't  _ **like**_  good-looking men or wasn't  _ **attracted**_ to them, of course, but there had always been that niggling worry at the back of her mind, warning her to be extra careful around the tall, dark, and handsome types.

This stranger beside her fitted into that category. Seamlessly.

"Thankfully," he said, a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes.

It caused a small smile to play at the corner of Hermione's lips in spite of herself.

"Oh? And why is that?" she asked, her tone of voice challenging.

"There are always certain … inconveniences when one is related to a beautiful woman."

Unexpectedly, she felt her cheeks turn red again. Hermione was positive that if this had been someone else, someone from Hogwarts for example, she would've scoffed at it or rolled her eyes snorting. However, when he said it, it sounded so bloody sincere.

And she couldn't help but feel flattered.

"Oh?" she replied, reaching for her glass of water again.

"Yes … and how incredibly rude of me for not introducing myself," he said before extending his hand. "Todd Lammor."

"Oh!"

It was Shannon who replied, and when both Hermione and Todd's eyes landed on her, she blushed.

"Erm … we've—the rest of the family and I, that is—heard a lot about you from Cecilia," Shannon explained, looking slightly uncomfortable under the combined gaze of Hermione and Todd. She then quickly added, "Well, she told us a lot about the rest of the McQueens, of course, but … yeah … she said something about you being really successful in your field of work."

Casting a glance at Todd from the corner of her eye, Hermione could fully understand why Cecilia told the family a lot about him, though she doubted it had anything to do with him being successful at all. Cecilia had been known to be extra keen when it came down to spotting good-looking men. Nonetheless, it appeared that Shannon hadn't been lying, since the man in question didn't appear confused or thrown off by that explanation.

"Cecilia is too kind," he said simply, a modest smile on his face.

Unexpectedly, Hermione relaxed; she was more than glad that he was not the boasting type like Malfoy. At least she wouldn't have to sit through the whole night listening to "A Hundred and Ten Ways to Raise Your Own Peacocks."

The rest of the night went by in a blur, and he turned out to be an even more delightful companion than Hermione could have hoped for. Though Hermione had spent most of her time in the wizarding world, she had always made it a point to keep up with news about the Muggle world after leaving Hogwarts, just so that her parents wouldn't feel as if they were losing a daughter. Therefore, though she knew a lot more about magic, she still had a good amount of knowledge in a wide range of Muggle topics. She was pleasantly surprised to find that he was also as studious as she was and shared her love for books. Never once did he appear to be confused by what she was talking about. It was strangely relaxing talking to Todd, and when the night finally came to an end, she found herself wistful about how quickly the time had passed.

"Well, it was great talking with you," she said as they stood at the entrance of the restaurant.

"Yes," Todd replied, his expression contemplative and hesitant both at the same time.

"Maybe I'll see you around then? Since … well … Cecilia is married to your cousin now, and I suppose … you'll be at the family gatherings," Hermione said.

She mentally winced at what she had said. Granted, she had improved in skills on how to converse with others, but even in her opinion, this was clumsy. She decided to blame it completely on him. It should be illegal to be this handsome, intelligent, clever, and witty. It should be illegal to be this …  _ **faultless**_.

A frown appeared on his face, and he lowered his eyes. "I certainly hope not."

Hermione stared at him, hurt. Only slightly. The hurt was negligible. Definitely negligible.

"Okay. It was nice meeting you," she said in a clipped tone of voice in spite of herself.

As she turned around to leave, his fingers circled around her arm, stopping her from moving away. She narrowed her eyes at the offending hand before slowly moving her eyesight upwards until it was staring directly into his unreadable orbs. Her mind mildly registered how surprisingly strong he was for someone so lean. Not that he was bone-thin, but this wasn't something she had expected.

"I think you might've misunderstood what I meant," he said, his eyes mirthful.

She kept her mouth shut, not trusting herself not to snap if she talked. After all, it was the first time—

Merlin, how did she get herself into this kind of situation? It was the  _ **first time**_  she had met this bloke. What exactly was she wishing for? She wasn't the type to be attracted someone upon their first meeting. She always firmly believed that liking someone came with time. At most, he should've only left some kind of impression on her. But here she was, being so … affected by every word he said and every move he made. This was abnormal.

Besides, what happened to her caution against overly good-looking men?

With that thought in mind, she slowly calmed down and she pulled a cool mask over her features.

"What do you mean?" she finally chose to ask.

Every other question made it sound like she had been hurt by his words. And it hadn't hurt that much. Nope, it did not.

"I realized how ambiguous that sentence sounded after it left my mouth, but what I was meaning to say was that …" he faltered in his words. After taking a deep breath, he continued, lowering his eyelids so that she couldn't look into his eyes again, "What I meant to say was that I hoped we could meet some other time … other than at family meetings. If that's alright with you and if you have the time to."

Hermione stared at him, momentarily at a loss of words, and irritation quickly dissolved into awkwardness.

"Oh." She ran her free hand through her hair as heat rapidly traveled up to her cheeks again. "Well … I … um …"

"I understand if you don't have the time, or perhaps if you have a significant other already," he quickly added.

"Oh … no. No, that wasn't what I meant," she replied, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

She paused, trying to find the right words to say. A part of her, a rather large part, wanted to say "yes" immediately. However, there was this small part that wanted to reject him, regardless of how wonderful he seemed to be. Not that she had something against Muggles. After all, she was Muggle-born. But there were certain inconveniences about dating a Muggle, and she was pretty sure by now that he was a Muggle. Either that or he was a wizard who had been living under a rock for the past ten years.

Then again, perhaps this was what she needed. The fame that accompanied being the best friend of Harry Potter and war heroine had been exciting at the beginning. But as the years gone by, it became tiresome. Perhaps this was the break she needed—being a nobody, just the normal "Muggle" girlfriend of a Muggle man. Even if there were something wrong with him, she was sure that she could pick up the hints along the way. After all, she had fought alongside Harry against Voldemort before, and Ginny had told her quite a bit of what had happened between her and the diary. With those experiences, it would take a lot before an ordinary man could con her.

Therefore, when she looked up again into his eyes, she gave him a brilliant smile along with her answer.

~-0-~

Three months later.

"You're engaged," was the first words that came out of Ginny Weasley's mouth the moment she stormed into Hermione's office.

"Hello to you, too, Ginny," the bushy-haired witch greeted with a raised eyebrow.

"Why didn't you tell us? Why haven't we seen this man before? Who is he?" Ginny demanded.

Hermione held up her hands in mock surrender as a smile appeared on her lips. "Slow down, Ginny."

"I'm not leaving your office until I get answers, Hermione," the redhead said stubbornly.

Hermione sighed. "I didn't say I wouldn't give them to you."

"But why didn't you tell us?" Ginny asked again, sitting down in the chair in front of Hermione's desk. "We haven't even heard about you dating anyone." She then narrowed her eyes. "Harry and I are starting to wonder if you even consider us your friends anymore."

Hermione stared at her in disbelief. "Just because of something like this?"

"Hermione, you're saying it as if it's not something important," Ginny said with a frown. "First of all, you went and got divorced with Ron, and now you're getting married. And where did Harry and I get all the information? From the _Daily Prophet_  out of all things! The only reason Harry isn't here today is because he's in the United States."

"The United States?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "What is he doing in the United States."

"Because the United States Ministry of Magic suspects Death Eater activity over in Wisconsin, so they're finally allowing us to Apparate there to investigate."

"Death Eater activity?" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. She'd thought that the last of them were rounded up two years ago.

Ginny sighed, disgruntled. "It turned out that some of the Death Eaters killed throughout the years might have been decoys."

"But that's impossible. If they'd used Polyjuice Potion, the effects would've receded within two hours after death."

Hermione immediately started to think through other possibilities, but she came up with no other possible methods. She knew for a fact that extensive tests were ran on each of the corpses that were taken into the Ministry to insure that the identities were correct. It was something the Ministry had, thankfully, added to the procedure after the whole fiasco with Barty Crouch Jr. However, it appeared that there were  _ **still**_  holes in their measures.

"They suspect that there's Dark Arts involved," Ginny said.

"That's a possibility," Hermione conceded, "but the Dark Arts Examination Department checked those corpses when they came in. Each identity was confirmed."

Which meant that the Dark Arts involved must have been highly advanced. If this were true …

Hermione felt a cold shiver run up her spine at the thought of another powerful dark wizard lurking around the shadows waiting to take over the place Lord Voldemort had left vacant after his death.

"That's what we thought. But last week, according to our contacts in Russia, someone caught sight of Rabastan Lestrange—"

"But he  _ **died**_  three years ago.  _ **We**_ saw him die back then," Hermione said.

She remembered that firmly because both Ginny and she were there—as victims. Out of all places, Rabastan Lestrange had attacked them when they were shopping at a Muggle shop. The consequences had been potentially dangerous. Thankfully, the owner of the shop next door was also a wizard and immediately alerted the Ministry. Even then, Rabastan almost escaped but was stopped when one of the Aurors, Paulina Marcus, shot a Killing Curse at the Death Eater and successfully killed him.

"Not according to the witnesses in Russia," Ginny said with a sigh.

"I hope 'witnesses' doesn't imply that other Death Eaters were also seen," Hermione said.

"No, so far, only Rabastan Lestrange. It remains to be seen if the 'Death Eater activities' in the United States have something to do with Lestrange or someone else," Ginny said. She then paused before narrowing her eyes at Hermione. "Oye! Don't think that you're going to get out of explaining yourself by changing the topic. Your fiancé. Harry and I want the details."

Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Fine, fine. He's … a Muggle."

Ginny's eyes widened. "A Muggle? You're dating a Muggle?" She then quickly added, "Not that there's something wrong with that, but I've always imagined you with someone magical. Aren't there inconveniences though? And … are you sure he's really a Muggle?"

The redhead was obviously worried about her, especially with the growing amounts of Death Eater activities throughout the world. Nonetheless, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly offended.

"Yes, he's a Muggle," she answered, successfully keeping her tone of voice neutral. "I've done a bit of research on his background. There's not a speck of magic in his family. There hasn't even been a Muggle-born in his family."

The moment she realized that Todd and her "casual meet-ups" had become something more serious, she had started to spend most of their time together trying to find something wrong with him. Someone who was as externally perfect as him had to have some kind of internal flaw, just like Riddle. Perhaps he liked to murder bunnies in his spare time, or maybe he had some kind of weird obsession, like hunting down one-year-old toddlers. She had even had a thorough check of his upbringing, using connections from work to get access to Muggle files about him.

Nobody could really blame her for being extra cautious. If there was anyone at fault, it would be Lord Voldemort. If it hadn't been for him, she could've been like any other young woman and admire handsome blokes without worrying that they would turn into murderous sociopaths any minute.

However, Todd turned out to be everything a witch could want, personality, background, and looks, all in one package. Well, perhaps he had been a bit more on the mischievous side when he was in primary school and had been part of the unruly group in secondary school, but that didn't stop him from getting glowing grades throughout his school years. Besides, who hadn't gone through that rebellious stage when they were going through adolescence?

"Oh! I didn't mean …" An apologetic look appeared on Ginny's face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to offend you, but … I'm just worried—"

"It's alright, Ginny," Hermione interrupted her with a smile. "I know you're just worried for me."

Ginny sighed out of relief. "Anyway, doesn't it feel a bit restricting to not use magic all the time? Dad's always wondered how Muggles go about with using magic for their everyday lives."

"Yeah, there are certain inconveniences," Hermione admitted before she smiled. "But … it feels so strangely relaxing to be around him."

A teasing grin appeared on Ginny's face. "Ohhh, is our Hermione in love?"

Hermione shot her a good-natured glare. "Well, I do like him an awful lot—"

"Oh, give it a break, Hermione. If you didn't love him, you wouldn't have gotten engaged to him," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes.

Especially after Hermione's divorce with Ron.

That went without saying. It was an open secret, so to speak, amongst people who knew Hermione well enough. She had thought that she had hidden it well enough, but obviously, people could still tell that she had been hurt by the whole event.

"So … when do we get to see this mysterious bloke?" Ginny asked.

"Well, if you don't mind, you can come over for dinner Friday night," Hermione suggested.

"Okay," Ginny said. "So … Muggle. That means no Apparition then, right?"

Hermione snorted. "No, I think I would like my fiancé to be conscious when meeting my best friends." She hesitated before asking, "Do you think I should invite Ron?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Um … I don't really think it's a good idea, Hermione. At least, not yet. I think he still needs some time to reconcile things with himself. It's … well … the news just came out this morning, and … well …"

"He's not taking it kindly," Hermione finished for her.

"No, he's not," Ginny admitted. "But I think he'll come around sooner or later. Just give it some time."

Hermione nodded.

After chatting for little while longer, Ginny left, and Hermione was left to her thoughts about Ron. A small part of her wanted to just tell him to bugger off. After all, he had already gotten married to another woman. It wasn't like she had cheated on him before they'd gotten their divorce. However, a larger part of her still held on to the bits and pieces of the friendship they had shared throughout the years. Now, she could only hope that what Ginny had said was true and that things would work out in the end.

~-0-~

Friday night came quicker than Hermione had anticipated, and strangely enough, she felt anxious as the moment Harry and Ginny would arrive crept closer. She had no idea why. Perhaps she was worried that her best friends would not like Todd. As much as she liked him, her friends were extremely important to her, and her relationship with Todd would be, to say the least, difficult without their support.

Therefore, she was more than relieved when Ginny and Harry seemed to get along with him.

They had decided to set up a table in the backyard, so they could have a good view of the sunset right before nightfall and then the stars as they had dinner.

"—and then you should see the way she slapped Malfoy. Best way to let out a whole year of angst, if you ask me," Harry said with a grin as they dug into the lasagna Hermione had made.

Initially, Harry eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline upon hearing that Hermione had cooked. She was so miffed by his reaction that she took extra care to give him a larger portion than anyone else, much to his horror and Ginny's amusement. However, after taking the first bite, a surprised look flitted over Harry's face and he even asked for seconds after he cleaned off the first plate.

"In other words, I best not irk our Hermione here or else she might kick me out of the house," Todd said, shooting Hermione a teasing glance.

"Oh, trust me, she can do much worse than just kicking someone out of the house," Ginny commented, equally amused as she winked at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. Make fun of me all you want. Watch me eat the whole lemon meringue pie and leave the lot of you crumbs."

She walked into the house amidst their laughter and went to the kitchen. She was just taking out the pie from the refrigerator when she caught sight of Harry standing at the doorway. A snort left Hermione's lips.

"You're not really checking if I'm eating the whole pie by myself, are you?" she joked as she placed the pie on the kitchen counter.

"Well, it will be an interesting scene, watching the daughter of dentists eating dessert like that," Harry replied, amused.

"True. Mum and Dad would have my head if that were to happen," she answered.

"So … how's life as a Muggle?" Harry asked, sitting down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table.

Hermione thought for a while before replying, "It's surprisingly calming to be away from it all, though of course there are certain inconveniences."

Harry nodded, and it took him a few seconds before he managed to get the next words out. "Ginny had forgotten to ask you this last time, but when do you plan to tell him about our world? Unless you're planning to keep it a secret from him for the rest of your life."

She looked up at him and found him gazing at her with curiosity.

"No … I'm not going to keep that a secret from him. It'll be unfair to him, and I don't want there to be something there that can potentially harm our relationship," she replied. "I just need to find the perfect opportunity, that's all."

"The thing is—" Harry halted in his words, and a look of contemplation fell over his face as he searched for the right words to say. "The thing is, I'm not saying that's how Todd's going to be, but you know that there are some people like Uncle Vernon. Not all of them have a fear of magic to his extent, but … well …"

He trailed off, and it took Hermione a small moment to fully digest what Harry was trying to say. It wasn't that she didn't understand him—his words were clear enough. It was something she had also thought about, but it wasn't exactly something she had thought about confronting on the day she had her friends and Todd meet with one another.

She heaved a sigh. "I know what you're trying to say, Harry. I … Well, I actually did think of it before, but if Todd can't accept something that's literally a part of me, then I really don't see the point of continuing the relationship."

She hoped that it wouldn't end with that kind of drama. It was really the last thing she needed: finding what seemed like a perfect bloke for her and then he turned out to be a close-minded individual like the Dursleys.

"I don't think you need to worry too much just yet, Hermione. He seems like a rather easygoing person. At least, that's the image I've gotten of him from this meeting. Ginny's just overly worried," Harry said reassuringly.

"Yes, I know. Thanks," Hermione said with a smile.

"No problem," Harry replied with a grin. He gazed at the pie that Hermione had placed on the table. "It's kind of strange though, seeing you work around the kitchen without the use of magic."

Hermione laughed. "I don't know about you, but I recall feeling like I've landed on a different planet the first time I walked into Mrs. Weasley's kitchen."

Harry's chuckle was short-lived, and then, his expression turned into one that Hermione could not read.

Placing a hand on his arm, she asked, "What's the matter, Harry?"

Without looking at her, Harry shook his head and grinned at her. "Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?"

Hermione had not been his friend throughout the years for nothing, and she could tell that something was definitely wrong.

"Tell me, Harry," she pressed on.

"No, it's nothing important, Hermione. I'm just … thinking," Harry replied.

A frown appeared on her face. "There's something wrong. I know there is. Don't make me force it out of you, Harry James Potter, because you know I will and I can."

Yet, Harry did not answer her, and that was when Hermione realized that something must be very wrong for him to have this kind of reaction. After what seemed like forever, he heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

"I think it's just me overworking. It's not really a big deal, Hermione—"

"If it's not a big deal, you would've said it already. The fact that you don't even know where to start talking about it makes it obvious that something is wrong. Even when we were in Hogwarts and you had Voldemort on your back, you've never reacted like this," Hermione pointed out. "Tell me, Harry. Perhaps I can help. Two heads are better than one."

He opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile. "You sure it's not two books are better than one?"

She placed her hands on her waist and glared at him threateningly. "Spit it out."

He sighed again. "You promise you're not going to freak out?"

"Harry," she said warningly.

He gazed at her; his expression looked so worn out that he seemed to have abruptly gained twenty years of age within seconds.

"I think I'm losing my magic."

Hermione froze and stared at him. The seconds ticked by, and neither of them spoke. The only sounds that broke the silence were the muffled chat between Todd and Ginny and the low hum coming from the refrigerator.

Suddenly, a whole pile of questions crashed down on her mind, and her body swayed as if she were impacted by a wave. At first, she wondered if he were joking, but the moment she looked at his face again, she realized that he was being serious. After knowing him for so many years, she could almost always tell immediately if he were telling the truth or not.

"What are you talking about, Harry? It's impossible to lose your magic. It's a part of us, something that we're born with," she said.

"Yeah, but it's not exactly something that's set in stone is it?" Harry asked.

"Harry,  _ **nobody**_  in history had ever lost their magic before. I've never  _ **heard**_  about it happening; I've never  _ **read**_  about it happening. If it could happen, it should've been in at least one book that I've read. Are you sure you didn't, I don't know, hit your head on a stone and forgot how to cast certain spells?" Hermione questioned him, running a hand through her hair.

She became even more frustrated when it became entangled with the knots. A hiss of pain escaped her lips when she accidentally pulled out a couple of strands as she pulled her hand out.

"Hermione, I'm not Lockhart," he deadpanned.

"I'm being serious here, Harry."

"So am I," said Harry as he gazed at her.

"It's not that I don't believe you, but … Harry, it's not something that can happen. That's why it was so ludicrous that people were eating up the Death Eaters' propaganda of Muggle-borns stealing magic from witches and wizards," Hermione pointed out.

"But what if there's some kind of dark magic that can make this happen? What if what Voldemort was trying to spread wasn't some kind of fairy tale?" Harry asked.

"If that's true, then he would've easily controlled the whole wizarding world during the first war. All he had to do was pick off each Order member one by one. He would've tried to steal Dumbledore and your magic right from the beginning," Hermione said. "The two of you were literally the only people standing in his way to victory. What was stopping him from stealing the magic from the two of you if there were some kind of dark magic that could let him achieve this? Not to mention the fact that he's not the only dark wizard who had tried to take over the whole wizarding world. Hundreds and thousands of others would've tried."

Harry fell silent, and Hermione allowed him the time to digest the things she had just told him. However, she knew well enough that Harry wasn't the kind of person who would fret over nothing. There must be something wrong with his spell-casting that led him to think that he was losing his magic.

"What, exactly, went wrong that made you think that you're losing your magic?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Harry sighed again before looking at her. "There are times … when I hold on to my wand, and … I don't really know how to describe it. It almost feels as if the connection between my wand and me is slipping away. It's not exactly that I can't cast—well, there are times when I have to try twice before a spell comes out, but other than that, even when I do get a spell out, it feels … different."

"Different? How?" asked Hermione.

"I can't really describe it … sort of like when you're driving a car and then you go over a bump, but not exactly …"

"Have you tried using a different wand?"

Harry nodded. "I've tried casting with Ginny's wand, but I get the same results, and when the spell does work, it feels strange."

He fell silent and the frown reappeared on his forehead again.

This was very strange indeed. Hermione had never heard anything like this. It almost sounded as if there were something blocking his magic, and so she voiced her thoughts out loud.

Harry's frown deepened. "But isn't that along the same lines as losing my magic? I mean, I know I don't completely lose my magic if that's the case and if I can somehow unblock it, I can cast again. But what if there isn't a way to unblock it? Then that's the same thing as losing my magic," Harry pointed out. "Besides, is it possible to block someone's magic? Wouldn't dark wizards have thought of using that to take over the wizarding world, too?"

"Well—" she started to say before stopping herself. In the end, she sighed, too, and nodded. "Yes, they would've thought of using that, too." Then, another thought hit her. "What if it's some kind of illness?"

" _ **Is**_  there some kind of illness that blocks magic?" he questioned her.

"Well, there might be," Hermione said slowly. "I've never really read about it in any of the books I've borrowed and bought. But I'll check," she quickly added when Harry was about to open his mouth. "I'll go to Flourish and Blotts tomorrow or the day after to check. It's close enough to Knockturn Alley that I can go see if there's anything similar to your condition written in the Dark Arts books. If that doesn't work, I can always question someone for you down in the Department of Mysteries. Paulina Marcus and I had gotten on pretty good terms with one another when she came over to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She's recently applied for the Department of Mysteries and is now an Unspeakable. I won't tell her it's you though, if you're worried about other people knowing about it. I can just say that it's something I'm wondering about."

"But doesn't her job title say it all? She's an Unspeakable, so she might know about something like this but can't tell us," Harry reasoned.

"But she might be able to give us some pointers about it," said Hermione.

"But—"

"Hm … I'd thought that the two of you had been hiding in the kitchen to finish off the pie, but I see it sitting quite nicely on top of the counter," Todd said as he walked into the kitchen with a teasing smile towards Hermione. "Is it a case of trying to settle who gets the larger portion and who gets the smaller portion?"

"Sorry, it's my fault," Harry said, standing up and hiding his frown behind an apologetic smile. "I had too many questions for Hermione and she was so busy answering them that she hadn't had the chance to finish cutting the pie into pieces."

"Not a problem, Harry," Todd said. "Ginny and I were just wondering if Hermione might've trapped herself inside the fridge."

"Actually, you'll sooner find that happening to Ron than to Hermione," Ginny said as she, too, walked into the kitchen.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably upon the mentioning of the redhead's name, and Ginny stopped in her tracks, obviously catching her slipup. She shot Hermione a horrified look before it dissolved into an apologetic one.

Todd, however, didn't seem the least bit affected by it.

"Oh, you never know with these kinds of things. Perhaps she'd been so deprived of sweets throughout her life that she suddenly breaks down and decides to go on an all-sweets diet," he` jested, glancing at Hermione from the corner of his eye.

"Very funny," Hermione said dryly.

"Thank you, my dear," Todd said with a half-smirk. "So, have we decided to eat this delicious pie in the kitchen or are we going to go back outside?"

~-0-~

Some might see it as a flaw, but Hermione saw her tenacity as a plus. After all, many of the answers she had found came from her unwillingness to give up. Therefore, she'd spent all the free time she had trying to find an answer to Harry's dilemma. Nonetheless, nothing came up. Throughout history, there had never been a case where magic just suddenly slipped out of a wizard or witch.

Unless it was never recorded.

But it would be considered something important to the study of magic, and Hermione could not understand why it would not be recorded. So, she continued to look through books. She'd even gone as far as rereading some of them to make sure she hadn't missed something along the way.

An uncomfortable idea also emerged while she was going through her collection of books: What if Harry only had magic because of the Horcrux in him, and now that the Horcrux was destroyed, he no longer had the ability to do magic? However, that thought quickly got dashed because if that were the case, Harry wouldn't have been able to cast spells after the Horcrux in him got destroyed.

In the end, after being unable to find any hints or theories in books, Hermione decided to ask Paulina if she knew anything about losing one's magic.

"How is that possible?" was the first thing that came out of Paulina's mouth as they sat in Hermione's office.

"Well, I'm not saying that it could definitely happen. It's just something that I've been thinking about," Hermione said slowly. "You do recall when Lord Voldemort—"

Paulina looked slightly uncomfortable but did not flinch here.

"—took over the Ministry and he started to spread the rumor about Muggle-borns getting their magic from witches and wizards and aren't really born with it. I was just wondering if it could happen in reality," Hermione finished, monitoring Paulina's expression carefully.

"Yes, but hadn't the current Ministry already proven that it was untrue and could not happen?" asked Paulina.

"Well, I was wondering if there could be some spell, some Dark spell that was created to make this happen," Hermione replied.

"Not that I know of," answered Paulina. "I've been through the Dark Arts Examination Department's files, and I can tell you for certain that there is nothing recorded there that matches what you're telling me."

"But perhaps there's some things that aren't recorded there," Hermione pointed out.

Paulina shrugged. "That's a possibility, but I don't see how. The Dark Arts Examination Department has the most records about the Dark Arts—well, apart from dark wizards and certain reputable wizards, like Professor Dumbledore."

"Is there any kind of sickness that might cause magic to become momentarily blocked?" Hermione inquired.

"Hm …" said Paulina, her face contemplative. She seemed to have thought of something seconds later and said, "I'm not really sure about it, but maybe Healer Nerys might know more things about it."

"Healer Nerys?" Hermione asked.

Paulina nodded. "She's one of the best Healers in the field. I'm pretty sure if there's anyone who knows about these kinds of weird illnesses, it will be her. I would ask her if I were you."

The look on Paulina's face made it seem as if she thought that Hermione was the one who was having problem with their magic. However, Hermione couldn't be bothered with explaining. Besides, if she did spend time explaining, it would make it seem even more like she was the one with problem. So after finding out from Paulina where Healer Nerys could be found, Hermione left the Department of Mysteries and went back to her office.

It appeared that she would have to pay St. Mungo's a visit.

~-0-~


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione tapped her forefinger rhythmically against her arm as she sat in one of the chairs against the wall next to a door with the sign "Healer Nerys" hanging from a nail on it. Not that she was a particularly impatient person—well, maybe she was. But under the situation she was in right now, she felt that she was fully justified to be impatient.

"It cost him a fortune of course, and I did tell him not to spend so much money on me, but my husband said that that's the secret to a successful marriage," the woman with short brown hair, sitting across the hallway from Hermione, said to the woman with longer hair.

As usual, after a gloating comment, she would glance at Hermione from the corner of her eye, as if she were trying to find some kind of reaction from Hermione's face.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and determinedly kept her eyes focused on the door next to her, hoping that whoever the patient was would come out soon. She wondered what she had ever done to that short-haired woman. Had she somehow cursed her puppy with frog legs or something? Or perhaps the woman fancied the camping trip she had gone on with Harry? Hermione had no idea. She could only conclude that there were some people out there who had nothing else better to do.

"You're soooo lucky, Melicent. I wished my husband was like that," the woman with the longer hair gushed.

"I know. Well, not  _ **every**_  woman can be that lucky, but it's actually really easy, and I'll be more than willing to give you some pointers about it, if you want," Melicent said, shooting another glance towards Hermione.

Ah. So that was what the ridiculous woman was trying to get at. Really, it was ages since her divorce with Ron, and it wasn't like their marriage ended up with a headline-worthy fight or fiasco. Hermione had no idea why some people dwelled on old news topics and refused to move on. Nonetheless, she did her best to prevent herself from making a snarky remark. It wasn't what she was here for after all. Besides, she didn't know this woman, so why should she care about what Melicent and her little tag-along were talking about behind her back?

Suddenly, the sign bearing Healer Nerys's name turned into plump, red lips and said in a cool, female voice, "H. Granger."

Resisting the urge to plant a firm kiss on those red lips, Hermione quickly entered Healer Nerys's office without shooting another look at the duo in the hallway. Her eyes slightly became wider when she took in the details of the office after she closed the door behind her. It was as if there had been some kind of raid on the room. Files could be found on top of every available surface in the room. There was even a file leaning against the window behind the desk. Loose pieces of paper were all over the place, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if some of the torn and crumpled ones were ripped apart by the Healer herself.

"Good day. Sorry for the long wait. I was looking for a particular file and couldn't find it, and medical files can  _ **never**_  be Summoned, which makes it rather annoying," Nerys said, running her hand through her hair and shaking her head. "That's the problem with having too many files. You expect to find them in one place and they always end up somewhere else."

That explained the mess.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile. To be honest, she had been expecting someone much older and with a much stiffer personality when Paulina talked about Healer Nerys's expertise. However, she looked rather young and outgoing.

"So, what problem do you have for me today?" Nerys asked after Hermione sat down in the seat in front of the table and handed her back some files that had been sitting in the chair.

One corner of Hermione's lips twitched upwards despite of herself at the Healer's pretense that they were having a normal conversation. Although they hadn't started talking yet, sitting in the middle of something similar to a bomb wreckage most certainly could not qualify for being a "normal conversation."

Recomposing herself, Hermione spoke, "It's not really a problem that I have. It's actually something that I'm curious about. I asked Paulina about it—"

"Paulina? Paulina Marcus?" Nerys asked, her eyebrow shooting upwards to her hairline.

Hermione nodded.

Nerys rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "If you don't mind, please tell her to visit me with her boyfriend soon. It's almost time for … his monthly check-up."

This time, it was Hermione's eyebrows that rose. Nonetheless, she answered, "Okay."

"Sorry for the interruption. You were saying …" Nerys trailed off, gazing at Hermione and prompting her to continue.

"Perhaps you might remember that time while Lord Voldemort—"

Nerys shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"—was in power, and his Ministry passed a certain propaganda about Muggles stealing magic from wizards and witches. We all know that that's a bunch of lies now, but I was wondering if there's a possibility of a wizard or witch losing their magic through illnesses and such," Hermione said.

Nerys blinked and tilted her head to one side. "Why would you suddenly have an interest in this?"

"Well, it's mostly out of curiosity," Hermione lied. "I just found it strange that people actually believed what the Death Eaters were spreading, so I wondered if there were actually such cases throughout history. However, regardless of what books I looked through, I could not find anything similar to it."

The Healer rubbed her chin with her right hand, and a frown appeared on her face. "Well, I daresay that such cases would never be recorded in history."

Hermione stared at her, and two different questions bubbled to the surface of her mind.

"So there really were such cases in history? If there were, why wouldn't they be recorded, and if they weren't recorded, how did you find out about it?" Hermione asked quickly.

Nerys laced her fingers in front of her on the desk. "Well, I think that it's rather obvious why they wouldn't want to record it down. If some other dark wizards found such information, they wouldn't hesitate to use it for their own means. Too dangerous for the Ministry, so they would never allow that."

"True, but wouldn't it be much safer for the public to know about such information and prepare themselves against whatever might hit them? And if more people knew about the possibility of losing one's magic, wouldn't they be more assertive about finding a cure towards it?" Hermione asked.

A fleeting, sarcastic smile passed over Nerys's face. "I'm not in a position of power to regulate what the Ministry allows to be printed and what not to. Neither am I in the position to criticize what they do."

Hermione opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. She wasn't here to argue with Nerys, even though she found the Healer's decision to stay out of trouble by remaining quiet infuriating.

Upon seeing that Hermione wasn't going to say anything, Nerys continued, "In regards to how I found out about someone losing their magic … you see, most Healers just go through the regular path of studying with other Healers at St. Mungo's, while others choose to become apprentices to Healers who work on their own and not at any hospitals. I decided to follow the latter path, and I studied with three different masters, one of them being the esteemed Chemonzukalikula—"

"Chemonzukalikula? I thought he was a monk, the  _ **Head**_  Monk of the Knights of Silence," Hermione interrupted.

_Rumored to have been killed by Lord Voldemort himself._

Hermione stopped herself from speaking that thought out loud just in time.

"Oh, did you know him?" Nerys asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"No, I've just heard about him before from one of my colleagues," Hermione answered.

"Lucky you," Nerys muttered to herself while shaking her head. Then, to Hermione, she said, "He was also a Healer, in addition to being the Head Monk of Knights of Silence. I decided—" A grimace appeared on her face. "—to travel to Tibet and become his apprentice after I left Hogwarts, since I've heard that he was quite knowledgeable in rare diseases that occur to both wizarding folks and Muggles—"

"I thought the Knights of Silence only accepted male students," Hermione said bluntly, unable to stop herself this time.

"That was the tradition, yes," Nerys answered, raising an eyebrow.

It was apparent that she wasn't going to go into details about how and why Chemonzukalikula came to the decision to accept her as an apprentice. Nonetheless, it wasn't important information to Hermione right now, so she decided not to press on.

"So … he was the one who told you about the possibility of one losing his or her magic," Hermione said.

Nerys nodded. "He'd told me that it was unusual but not impossible for these things to happen."

"So it doesn't occur very often," Hermione concluded.

Nerys shook her head. "No, it doesn't. I haven't encountered it at all during my time as an apprentice to Master Chemonzukalikula, nor had I ever had a patient with such an illness. However," she continued before Hermione could open her mouth to ask, "Master Chemonzukalikula himself had encountered a patient like this before.

"It was during his first days at the monastery, which is over four hundred years ago, mind you—don't ask me how he managed to live that long without a sorcerer's stone; I asked but never got an answer—so I don't really know all the details. However, I do remember that he said it was a young Tibetan who had turned to them because she had no options left. She was, indeed, losing all her magic."

"Did they ever find out why or how that happened?" Hermione asked.

Nerys grimaced. "Like I've said, you're very fortunate to not have known Master Chemonzukalikula. He never gave straight answers, and he never told me how it happened, at least, I don't think he did."

The look of someone trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle appeared on Nerys's face as she thought through the things her master had told her.

 _Well, that's great news_ , Hermione thought sarcastically.  _You get an apprentice and decide to not give them straight answers; I'm sure they've learned a hell of a lot from you._

"Did they ever find a cure for it?" she asked with some difficulty.

Nerys sighed, lowered her head, and stared at her interlaced fingers. "Unfortunately, no."

~-0-~

Hermione had no idea how to tell Harry about what Healer Nerys had said. Besides, despite what Paulina had said, she felt that she should get a second opinion before she believed what she was told. Nonetheless, after asking at least three different Healers—and the thoroughly confused, newly appointed Herbology Professor, Neville—Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Healer Nerys and Chemonzukalikula were the only ones who knew about magic loss in wizarding folks.

And that was when it hit her—she should've traveled to Tibet the moment she found out from Healer Nerys about a case of magic loss happening there. So without further ado, she filed for an International Apparition Permit and Apparated directly to Tibet. Since she had read that the monastery had many wards preventing outsiders from Apparating directly into their place, she decided to arrive at the foot of the mountain and traveled up to the monastery by foot. Besides, it was incredibly rude to just Apparate into someone else's place.

Nonetheless, after walking uphill for thirty minutes and still only halfway to the monastery, she was left panting and cursing under her breath. If they didn't had information she wanted, she wouldn't even bother visiting them. Though some of the magic that supposedly came from them was extraordinary, other things reminded her strongly of Trelawney, what with their talks about inner peace and karma.

_Karma, my foot. Voldemort never had to spend months and months camping before he got killed by Harry. And floating around in Albanian forests as half of a spirit doesn't count, because_ **he** _didn't have to live in tents._

Too bad bringing the dead back to life was not an option. If that were the case, she would work day and night to find the way to make Voldemort lose his magic and then make him go on months and months of camping trips.

Amusing herself with thoughts about how she would make Voldemort live in tents and eat random forest weeds made the hiking a bit less tiresome, and soon, she finally saw some white buildings with red roofs in a distance. That was when she noticed how awfully quiet it was. Even though she wasn't near the monastery yet, she still could not make out any sounds of distant chit-chats.

 _Knights of Silence indeed_ , Hermione thought to herself.

In fact, she couldn't find a monk in sight as she made her way up to the main building—or at least, what appeared to be the main building. She would've thought that there was some kind of magic that would alert the people inside that there was someone arriving, or perhaps someone to lead the way for strangers. However, even when she'd reached the front door, she couldn't find a sign of a living human, let alone a wizard or monk.

Pushing the questions and confusion to the back of her mind, Hermione knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. Perhaps she was interrupting some kind of ceremony they were having. Other than that, she could not think of any other reason why there was no one around.

After waiting for about five minutes, she was about to knock on the door again when it opened. A strong, strange aroma filled her nose, and for a moment, she wondered what kind of incense the monks were burning. She had traveled to many places before—temples, mosques, churches of different religions—but she had never smelled anything quite like it before.

A young monk in his teens appeared and glanced at her tentatively.

"May I help you?" he asked.

His question brought Hermione out of her mental analysis of the smell, and she fought down the urge to raise her eyebrows. From what she had heard about the Knights of Silence, they were a strange group indeed, but she had thought that they would've been a bit more courteous to strangers.

"Hi, I'm looking for Head Monk Jareth," she answered.

The young monk scrutinized her for a bit before a frown appeared on his face. "Our Head Monk is currently in the meditative state."

"Oh." She hesitated for a bit before continuing, "I can wait until he comes out of his meditative state. Am I allowed to wait inside the building or do I have to stay outside?"

"I'm sorry, but it is against our rules to provide lodging for females," he said with a bow of his head.

At this, Hermione's eyebrows rose. "How long, exactly, is this meditative state of his?"

"Three months," the young monk answered.

What? She could not wait three months.

"I need to speak to him. It's an emergency. I have questions for him—it's practically a matter of life and death, and I know the Knights of Silence are probably the only one who can provide me with the answers—"

"Who is at the door, Arjun?" another male's voice interrupted Hermione's dialogue.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, knowing that she had accidentally let things slip when she was worried. She couldn't just say that she was curious now because the monks would want to know why she couldn't wait another three months before finding out the answer. She hadn't thought about making up a story in the first place because she had thought that she would get to see the Head Monk immediately; she hadn't realized that he would've decided to take a long meditation break. Now, she would need to think of a story. Fast. However, the smell of the burning incense wasn't helping her dilemma—it was far too distracting for her liking. How in the world do these monks meditate with that odor invading their senses all the time?

The young monk turned his head around and answered, "It's Hermione Granger, Curzon. She wants to look for Jareth."

The fact that he knew who she was hardly surprised her, given the fame that accompanied her since Harry vanquished Lord Voldemort.

Arjun stepped away from the doorway, and a rather large man appeared. If Hermione hadn't been acquainted with Hagrid, she would've found his height and size impressive. As it was, it still took her a few good seconds before she recomposed herself.

"Hello, Miss Granger. I heard that you are looking for our Head Monk, Jareth," the monk, Curzon, said with a deep voice that went well with his appearance.

"Yes. I need to ask him a couple of urgent questions, but I've heard that he's currently in a meditative state that would last three months," Hermione said, schooling her face carefully for she really wanted to scrunch up her nose—a strong gust of  _ **that**_  smell crashed into her face the moment the door opened wider.

Merlin, she wondered if the monks didn't choke from burning that much incense. The scent couldn't have been that strong if they used it sparingly.

Curzon nodded. "Indeed."

"But I can't wait three months." She paused, her mind working to create a story as she went along. Then, an idea hit her, and she said, "You see, recently, our Ministry of Magic had received notice about the increased amount of alleged Death Eater activities throughout the world. We are worried that this might be some ploy to revive their fallen master or gain control of the power they had lost."

A frown appeared on Curzon's face. "I've heard about possible activities by former Death Eaters in the past few months occurring across the globe. Even in Tibet, there have been unexplained incidents that were similar to what the Death Eaters had done in the past—"

"There's Death Eater activities here, too?" asked Hermione, alarmed.

That was something she hadn't heard about yet, and apparently, the British Ministry of Magic hadn't been notified about it either.

"We are not sure yet," Curzon answered.

Hermione stared at him. She had no idea why, perhaps it was because he had replied a bit too quickly, but she had the strangest feeling that he wasn't telling her the complete truth. Perhaps it was because the Tibetan Ministry of Magic didn't want any interference from outside countries yet.

Curzon, on the other hand, kept eye contact with her without even so much as blinking. After a while, she dropped her gaze, not admitting defeat but because she wasn't here to find out about the Death Eaters; Harry's loss of magic was far more important right now. She had enough time to find out about it after she sorted out Harry's problem.

"That is why we are worried. We've received notice from several prestigious members of the society—who prefer to remain anonymous due to various reasons—that they feel a sudden change in their casting. It led them to believe that they are losing their magic, so my colleague was given the task of finding out previous cases of magic loss," said Hermione, carefully hiding her thoughts.

Though she had never truly become a master in Occlumency, the feeble walls were enough to let her know if someone were trying to break through them.

Alarm flashed over Curzon's face. "Then the situation is dire indeed if they had somehow learned about the ancient art of stealing magic from others."

"You mean it is possible to steal magic from others? It is possible to lose your magic?" asked Hermione, her anxiety a couple of notches higher than his.

Curzon nodded. "It is, according to our previous Head Monk, Chemonzukalikula, and it occurred nearly four hundred years ago."

"Yes, I've heard about it from Healer Nerys—"

"Ah, so you know Nerys," Curzon said.

"Yes … I've asked her about the possibility of losing one's magic, and she'd mentioned that Head Monk Chemonzukalikula had told her about a case that he had witnessed in the past," Hermione answered with a nod.

"Did she tell you anything else?"

"Not very much, since she said that she didn't know the full details either, which was why I decided to come here and ask Head Monk Jareth about it," replied Hermione.

"I'm afraid Head Monk Jareth wouldn't be able to tell you much about it either, since, he, too, knows as little about it as I do," Curzon said. "The two of us had only heard about it once by Head Monk Chemonzukalikula, and we had never asked for the details, since we neither wanted to learn about the art of stealing magic, nor did we think we would deal with such a case again."

Worry caused a deep frown to appear on Hermione's forehead, and she took a step closer to the monk. "So you're saying that there's definitely someone behind this? It's not something that occurs naturally?"

"We are not sure if the same thing is happening to the people you are talking about. According to Head Monk Chemonzukalikula, someone was behind young Freya's loss of magic. We do not know if this can happen in nature. Magic is a malleable thing, and I wouldn't be surprised if this could happen on its own."

Hermione, however, hardly heard his words. She was racking through her mind, trying to pinpoint the possible suspects. Was it Lord Voldemort? Although she saw him die, one could never be sure about it. The git had the uncanny ability to come back to life again and again, unfortunately, and Harry would be number one on his hit list if he were alive. It made sense for him to want to target Harry again—though Hermione couldn't even begin to mention how stupid it would be for him to do so, due to the amount of times he had failed. She supposed that at some point, tenacity could become stupidity, especially in Voldemort's case.

Other than Voldemort, the only other people who might want to target Harry would be the Death Eaters. It was particularly hard trying to round all of them up after all. Many of them tried to play the "I was under the Imperius Curse" card again, though this time, with the Ministry under Shacklebolt's reign, most of them were thrown straight into Azkaban. Nonetheless, there were still a handful of them who ran free because it was impossible to get a full list of those who had participated in Voldemort's actions. Hermione wondered if it could be some high ranking, unknown Death Eater who was trying to steal Harry's magic.

"Is there any cure for it?" Hermione asked.

Though Nerys had told her that there wasn't, she hoped that it was probably because Nerys interpreted Chemonzukalikula's words wrong.

Her hopes were dashed when Curzon shook his head. "Sorry, Miss Granger. Unfortunately, no remedy was found for it, and since young Freya was the only case that previous monks had ever seen, they had no incentive to find a cure to it."

To say that Hermione was let down would be an understatement; she continued pressing Curzon for answers but to no avail. In the end, it was Curzon who'd given up—he said something about having chores to finish, retreated back into the monastery, and closing the door in Hermione's face.

Words—some of them, not exactly polite—hung at the tip of her tongue, but in the end, after she calmed down, she swallowed them. He clearly didn't have any more information to give her.

Thoroughly upset, Hermione walked down the same path she had come from, finding the trip worse than when she was walking uphill. At least then, she'd had hope that the Knights of Silence would have some sort of answer for her.

How was she going to tell Harry?  _ **What**_  could she tell Harry? Magic was like second nature to them; it was almost like breathing. This would be worse than pronouncing the death sentence to him.

With a heavy heart, Hermione reached the Apparition point and turned on the spot, thinking firmly of the British Ministry of Magic, her office. Instead of the familiar feeling of the tug at her navel, a biting coldness traveled down her spine.

She was still in Tibet.

~-0-~

With her heart pounding painfully against her chest, Hermione rushed back to her office when she finally returned to England—after trying  _ **fifteen**_  times. Perhaps it was the look on her face or maybe her co-workers knew well enough how snappish she could be when she was busy, but they did not ask and she was left to her own thoughts. However, for once, she wished that they would say something to her—give her a report about someone illegally breeding creatures, suggest a new law to be passed to benefit the trolls— _ **anything**_ to get her mind off what she was thinking right now.

She could not possibly be losing her magic. She was just jumping to conclusions. It wasn't that abnormal for occasional botch-ups when casting. She shouldn't just automatically assume that what was probably happening to Harry was happening to her, too. Besides, she was fretting when she was trying to Apparate. It was one of the basics of spell-casting—one should avoid casting when they were being overly emotional. It interfered with concentration and caused many accidents throughout history.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, she tried her best to calm down. Pulling out her wand, she quickly flicked it at the blank parchment lying on top of her desk.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_."

A sigh of relief passed through her lips when the parchment floated upwards until it reached the height she had indicated with her wand.

She closed her eyes and concentrated hard on her next spell. Casting spells nonverbally always required more focus, and a simple  _Incendio_  was no different. Opening her eyes again, she swished and flicked her wand at the parchment. Her heart sank when nothing happened.

Biting hard down on her lower lips, she flicked and swished again and again but to no avail. The lack of results slowly increased the frustration and fear in her heart. Finally, a burst of flame erupted from the tip of her wand, scorching the parchment and setting it on fire. However, the intensity was much more than she had anticipated, and she quickly slashed her wand through the air again, not daring to cast nonverbally lest the fire got out of control.

" _Aguamenti_."

The fire, nonetheless, spread on; the tips of the flames licked at the other documents on her table and sparks occasionally sizzled into the air.

" _Aguamenti_!" she cast again, her voice slightly louder and her heart speeding up yet once again.

Nonetheless, the outcome wasn't what she had wanted; a small sprinkle of water showered over the fire but certainly not enough to put it out. Quickly making up her decision, Hermione stuffed her wand back in her pocket, grabbed the cushion on her seat, and started to put out the fire with it. Thankfully, the fire hadn't spread too much, and after a few well-placed whacks, the last of the flames were put out. Nonetheless, Hermione still had no idea how to react when she took a good look at the damages the small accident had caused. Scorched documents were scattered around the floor and table—some of it must have dropped down when she was busy swinging the cushion at the fire; funnels of smoke twirled upwards, towards the ceiling; and black marks blotched her formerly immaculate, redwood table.

She slumped down into the chair, staring unseeingly at a particularly burnt spot on the desk.

Why was this happening? According to what she had heard from Harry—or at least, she deduced from what Harry had told her that it took a while before he lost his magic to this extent. He had said something about feeling the connection between him and his wand slipping away. It hadn't felt any different when she had been casting, had it? She couldn't tell, since she had been too concerned with the fact that the casting had been unsuccessful.

She glanced from the corner of her eye at the pocket that held her wand. She didn't dare to try it out now. No, she couldn't test it out yet. She  _ **wouldn't**_  test it out yet, though she had a strong urge to do so. Even in the worst scenario and she was, indeed, losing her magic, she shouldn't lose it this quickly. Perhaps she was just overtired.

Yes, she was just overtired. And she had been listening to too many stories from the Knights of Silence. If she just rested a bit, her casting should be back to normal. Or maybe it was because there was something wrong with her wand. She should probably get it checked out at Ollivander's.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of chair, mentally telling herself that there was nothing wrong and things would go back to normal soon. Seconds later, she opened her eyes again and stalked towards her door.

She needed to speak with Harry.

Therefore, she almost fell over when the door got pushed open the moment she was pulling it open. Harry stumbled into her office while she steadied herself with one hand on the wall.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he stood up straight.

Hermione was taken aback when she saw how distressed he seemed. His hair was even more disheveled than usual; bags were hanging under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for days; and his clothes were slightly off-centered, as if he had been in a hurry to get here. The fact that he didn't make a joking remark about the state of her office further showed how utterly distressed he was at the moment.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she asked tentatively.

Closing the door quickly behind him, he gazed at her. "I think I've lost my magic completely."

" _ **What**_?" She stared at him.

"I'm serious, Hermione. Somehow, the Floo network still worked for me, though I have no idea if Muggles could Floo themselves somewhere, but I didn't try to cast any spells this morning, so I didn't know that I've lost my magic completely until ten this morning. I tried to look for you, but your co-workers said that you've went somewhere this morning—"

"You mean you can't cast any spells? At all?" screeched Hermione.

"Shh!" He glanced at her door worriedly, obviously afraid that someone else might hear about it. "Yes."

"But—but I thought you were only having trouble casting spells," Hermione stuttered in a lower volume.

"It's been getting progressively worse. I didn't think too much about it because Apparating had been a problem since three months ago, so it was before I told you about this happ—"

"How long has it been since you've started feeling your magic slipping?" she cut in.

"A year," he answered.

"A year?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

That meant that she had been right; for some strange reason, the loss of magic was occurring a lot faster to her than it was to Harry.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Harry asked, noticing the change on her face.

She shook her head, though she couldn't stop a shiver from running through her body.

"What's the matter? Tell me, Hermione," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She shook her head again. She couldn't tell him; he was already troubled by the possibility of completely losing his magic. She couldn't let him know that the same thing was happening to her. She had to lie to him.

However, the moment she looked into his forest green eyes, the words just wouldn't come out. They remained stuck in her throat as she stared at Harry. She just couldn't bear to lie to her friends, and there had never been a moment in her life when she hated that trait of hers more than now.

"The same thing's happening to you," Harry suddenly said, and he stumbled backwards. "The same thing is happening to you. Dear Godric, why is it happening to us?"

The back of his knees hit one of the armchairs in her room, and he slumped down into it before burying his face in his hands.

It took a moment for Hermione to snap out of her stupor.

"I—I—"

"Don't bother lying about it, Hermione. It's written all over your face," said Harry, his voice muffled.

Her mouth snapped shut, and she froze on the spot, not knowing what to do and what to say.

_Lie to him. I have to lie to him._

However, each lie that she came up with sounded feebler, more ridiculous than the last. In the end, she leaned against the wall in defeat, staring at the top of Harry's head, and her mind blank.

What were they going to do now?

~-0-~

Harry and Hermione could care less about what stories their co-workers would make up by tomorrow. After all, it was no big secret that they were best of friends since Hogwarts, so it wouldn't be weird that Harry stayed nearly four hours in her office. The two of them would've stayed even longer if they could. However, sitting in the office and worrying was not something that the two of them could bring themselves to do. So though they couldn't come up with a solution, they did decide that they would still come to work and go home at regular times to prevent others from finding out about their predicament. Meanwhile, they would continue trying to find out the reason behind their loss of magic. Though it was hard, they were determined to not worry about it too much. Perhaps it was like cancer cells, and the more they were upset about it, the faster the ailment would progress.

The end of the workday came a little too early for Hermione's comfort, and as she walked towards the Floo network, she became more and more uneasy about trying her luck. Though Harry still managed to make it to work unsinged, she could not be sure that it was an ability that they could retain after they've lost their magic completely. It was why Harry had decided to return home the visitor's way rather than risk stepping into the fireplace and running into the risk of roasting himself in front of a whole audience of Ministry workers.

In the end, she found herself taking the same path Harry had out of the Ministry.

Thankfully, Todd was going to be home late that night. He was ridiculously perceptive, and she really did not think that this was a good time to let him know about the Wizarding World.

 _Perhaps you wouldn't even need to explain to him in a few months' worth of time_ , her mind added sarcastically.

She hardly remembered how she got through the hours in between; time went past like a blur, and sometime later, she found herself curled up in the bed with Todd's arm around her waist. Yet, his presence could not soothe her. Staying calm and collected was much easier said than done. Uneasiness continued to well up from the pit of her stomach like an erupting volcano, and she couldn't think of a way to calm herself down.

"Is something wrong?" Todd whispered all of a sudden.

Though her body hardly relaxed, a small shiver still ran down her spine, almost reflexively, when his breath brushed against her earlobe.

"Nothing important," she murmured, closing her eyes and lacing her fingers with his. "Just a bit stressed out with work."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm," she answered.

He shifted his body a little closer to her and kissed the top of her head. "You've never told me where you worked at."

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared straight ahead into the dark room as she shifted her body awkwardly. This was definitely  _ **not**_  the right time for this kind of question. She wasn't sure how to explain things without telling him too much and leading him to believe that she was some kind of nutcase. After all, when telling people about magic, there were only a handful of outcomes—well, at least before she performed some kind of magic in front of them—and one of them was being treated like a loony bin that should be thrown into a mental hospital. At the moment, she wasn't even sure  _ **when**_  her magic worked. It would be incredibly embarrassing if she waved her wand and nothing happened. Therefore, she would rather sort out of her magic loss problem before telling Todd everything.

"Haven't I told you?" she asked instead, feigning forgetfulness.

"You've never elaborated it." A soft chuckle left his mouth before he said, "Now don't tell me I'm getting married to a drug dealer or some other infamous international criminal."

"Wouldn't that be funny?" she replied weakly.

He did not say anything, and she realized that he was waiting for an answer from her.

"It's … I work for the government," she said slowly, her free hand rolled up into a fist. Though this conversation somewhat distracted her from the possibility of complete loss of magic, it was not exactly a calming topic.

He still didn't say anything, and she knew it was because that was precisely how she'd always answered him when the topic about work came up. She didn't want to lie to him because she knew that there would be a day when she would tell him everything. Therefore, she'd always opted to keep the answers vague instead of making things up.

"It's kind of busy … and we basically have a lot of documents to look through and approve … and …" she trailed off. After a short pause, she turned around so that she could face him, though she could not see clearly in the dark. "Look … it's not really something I can talk about right now. But I promise you that I'll tell you everything about me one day."

"Everything?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

For a split second, she dwelled on that single word he said. There seemed to be … an underlying tone in that simple question, yet she could not pinpoint it. Then, she brushed that feeling aside. This was just becoming  _ **beyond**_  ridiculous now. Why would there be any underlying tone in that simple question? It wasn't like she was making some kind of promise that would turn the world on its head or cause the skies to come crashing down. At the rate she was going, the possibility of magic loss would turn her into a cynical, old bat.

"Everything," she assured him with a smile, though she knew he could not see it in the dark. "I promise."

He paused for a short moment before he answered.

"I'll take your word for it."

Relief washed over her, but unexpectedly, a tingle ran down the back of her spine, reminiscent of the sensation she usually got after she performed a particularly difficult spell. Her heartbeat increased; perhaps that was a sign of her system kick-starting itself back into action. Optimism brought another smile to her lips, and she snuggled closer to him. However, before she drifted off into sleep, she realized that at the back of her mind, there was still a strange feeling of unease.

~-0-~


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

December, 2009

Hermione Granger had no idea how long she stood in front of what should've been the Leaky Cauldron. For all she knew, it could've been simply minutes. However, somehow, she could not make herself move. The bitter cold had numbed her feet and hands many minutes ago, but it was nothing in comparison to what was happening to her heart and mind.

Occasionally, people dressed in non-Muggle attire would bow their heads to her in greeting—they probably wondered why she was standing there—but she could not bring herself to ask them anything. The thought of asking for help to get into the Leaky Cauldron was both depressing and horrifying.

She just couldn't do it. If not for the pride, then because she didn't want to know what would happen the next morning. She could already see her dilemma appearing on the front page of each and every wizarding newspapers.

So, the passersby continued on their way, disappearing in a blink of an eye, while she continued standing there.

What seemed like an eternity later, a hand landed on her shoulder. Stiffly—from both staying in the same position for too long and devastating emotions—she turned around until she saw the familiar, forest green eyes of Harry Potter.

She wanted to open her mouth to say something, to tell him that everything would be alright. She  _ **wanted**_  to believe that everything would be alright. However, somehow, her lips wouldn't move, and her throat felt abnormally dry.

The sadness in his eyes was overwhelming, but what nearly made her cry was when he tugged his lips upwards into an encouraging smile. Biting down on her lips hard, she leaned forward, placed her head on his shoulder, and hugged him.

~-0-~

Steam rolled upwards from the two mugs sitting on the table. Candlelight provided the much needed lighting; it was nearing suppertime after all, but hunger was the least of Hermione's problems right now. She stared at the mug in front of her, though her mind was blank.

"Drink a little. It'll make you feel better," Harry said quietly, taking a sip out of his hot chocolate.

The comment registered in her mind just as slowly as her reaction, and before she could stop herself, she said in a monotonous voice, "But it won't make our magic come back."

Harry's hand stopped in midair, and a haunted look appeared on his face as he gazed at Hermione without saying a word. The distraught in his eyes would have caused her to blanch if she wasn't feeling as if the whole world had come to an end for them. In a way, it had, since magic was not only a part of them—it  _ **identified**_  them.

Ginny placed her mug on the table, sat down next to Harry, and eyed them quietly.

They were still standing outside of the Leaky Cauldron when she had found them. Though she had no idea what happened to them at that time, she knew something terrible must have happened, based on the panic-stricken expressions on both of their faces. She had suggested for them to go to her house to chat, and Harry told her then and there that she might need to Apparate them there. A look of alarm had flashed over her face, but she did as she was suggested. Once they've arrived, Harry told Ginny their whole dilemma, and Hermione had remained silent throughout.

"There must be some way to get your magic back. Perhaps … it's in some other books. Or perhaps we could go to some other countries. Just because we haven't heard about it here, it doesn't mean that other wizarding cultures hadn't," Ginny said.

"I'd gone to Tibet," Hermione said, her voice detached, as if she were talking about someone else rather than herself. "They'd had a case like this before, four hundred years ago. But they'd never found a way to cure it."

Harry stared at her. "You'd never told me."

"How was I supposed to tell you, Harry? It was the only clue I could find, and I'd gone through countless books. I'd even gotten books from other countries: Norway, Sweden, Mexico, China, Egypt—you name it. However, the only incident that I've heard about came from Tibet. That was the only occurrence that I'd heard that was similar to what was happening to you—to us. How could I let you know that … we might never get our magic back again?"

She had closed her eyes while she told him this. She couldn't bear to look at him, though in her mind's eye, she could already see the expression that would be on his face now.

After a long time, she heard a sigh from Harry.

"I guess … that means we'll have to get used to being Muggles again," he said, trying to sound upbeat but failing miserably. "Think of it the good way, at least we'd gotten rid of Voldemort while we had our magic. Perhaps that was the purpose we had. Perhaps that was what we needed to achieve with our magic."

"Harry …" she murmured softly, shaking her head.

"Perhaps we can look for more clues in Tibet then," Ginny said, a look of deep thought on her face.

"It's … pointless. It happened four hundred years ago, and the only person who knows about this is dead," Hermione replied.

"It doesn't hurt to try again," Ginny said. "Harry and I had gone there a year and a half ago, and I remember passing by an old wizarding village. I can go there and check for you."

"Ginny—" Hermione started to say.

Ginny held up her hand. "Look, Hermione. You're one of my best friends and Harry is my husband. You can't expect me to sit around and look at the two of you break down without doing anything. It'll take at most a day or two, and I'll immediately owl you two if I find anything about it."

Though it pained Hermione to let others do the work for her, in the end, she had to agree. After all, she had no idea if there were any magic left inside her. Therefore, moments later, she was left alone in the kitchen with Harry while Ginny went to prepare the things she would be taking with her.

"Maybe Ginny would find something," Harry said, still attempting to sound hopeful and optimistic.

"Hopefully," Hermione said. With a sigh, she stood up from her chair. "I guess I better go home then. I haven't told Todd that I might be home late, so I don't want him to be worried about me."

Harry nodded before a frown creased his forehead. "Perhaps … you should wait until Ginny … well …"

At first, she was confused by what he was saying, but then, she understood: Without magic, it was impossible to leave Diagon Alley.

"Oh … right," she muttered before sitting down again.

They waited in silence for Ginny to return, each immersed in their own thoughts and mutually hoped that their nightmare would soon be over.

~-0-~

The next few days were extremely hard for Hermione to get through. Although she hadn't expected Ginny to have positive answers for her, she still became nervous as time went by. The Floo network, thankfully, still worked for Hermione and Harry, and she had contacted the Ministry with that method, letting them know that she would be on vacation for the next couple of days.

She knew she probably should've told them about her problem, or perhaps resigned from her post, but she couldn't get herself to do that. There was still a small part of her that wished this nightmare would be over soon.

It was nearly sunset when Ginny Apparated in with a soft "pop," startling Hermione.

"Ginny!" she scolded. "What if Todd was home?"

"So … you haven't told him about … magic yet?" Ginny asked, a smile lingering on her lips.

"No … I … I couldn't tell him. I don't know how to explain it to him with—without magic. I mean … if I can't show magic to him, it's pointless telling him that I know magic, and if I can't show him, why would he believe that I know magic? That there's really a wizarding world? And … and …" Hermione trailed off.

She tried to calm down, but it was easier said than done.

A sympathetic expression appeared on Ginny's face, and she nodded. "Sorry about asking, Hermione. I was just … curious."

"No, I understand," said Hermione. She glanced at Ginny tentatively. "Have you … did you find anything about the loss of magic?"

Ginny lowered her gaze and sighed. "I did, but … I think you'd found everything that I could find. And … and I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't think there's a way for you to get your magic back."

Hermione closed her eyes. She numbly stood in the living room; she didn't even notice that Ginny had stopped talking and was now looking at her observantly. It was if time had stopped for her. She didn't realize until this moment that she had been counting on Ginny's results, more than she had thought she did.

The seconds ticked by until Ginny patted her on the shoulder, urging her to sit down on the sofa. Ginny then went into the kitchen, presumably to make tea. Hermione didn't know what to think now. Her mind was in chaos in regards to what to do now. She'd already reached dead ends in regards to how to get her magic back—which meant that she might never get her magic back. That meant that she would have to resign from her post at the Ministry … and learn how to live like a Muggle again … and …

Her eyes stung, and she felt tears threatening to fall, but she held them back. She wouldn't let them fall now.

The sounds of the front door opening reached her ears, alerting her that Todd was home. Seconds later, he walked into the living room.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, peering at her face with a faint smile on his face.

For a short moment, she stared at him until something cracked inside her. She stood up, walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

She clung onto him as if he were the only thing connecting her to reality. It was strange, really, since he was a Muggle and the one thing that would make her feel even more detached from the real world—her world, the world of magic.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

His soft baritone soothed her, and momentarily, she calmed down a bit.

"Nothing. Just … just please hold me for a while," she whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Are you sure you don't want something? You seem awfully unsettled," he said, his fingers working their way through her hair.

She shook her head and buried her head into his shoulder, trying to seek out a safe place. She should get some sleep. Yes, that might cause this nightmare to end. Or maybe she would think of some way after she'd gotten enough rest. Solutions often came to her after a while. Maybe she just wasn't getting the answers because she was too worried. She should—

"Perhaps a Calming Draught might help?" he asked.

She froze, and a numbing feeling shot down from her brain all the way down her spine.

"Or perhaps a Dreamless Sleep Potion?" he suggested, his voice as soothing and soft as usual.

His words unfroze her, but her body started to shake as something connected in her brain, something that thoroughly frightened her.

"Wha—what are you talking about?" she asked.

Her hands were still clinging onto him; somehow, she couldn't get them to budge.

"Do you need a potion to help calm you down, Hermione?" he asked.

The tint of sarcasm in his voice finally made the rest of her body move, and she pulled away from him. She stared at him as she slowly stepped backwards, both yearning his embrace and wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

Especially when she saw that expression on his face.

His smile had never scared her so much; it had always been warm and welcoming. Right now, however, she wondered how she could've ever thought of him as pleasant because cruelness fitted seamlessly with him.

"Oh, hello, Todd," Ginny said from the kitchen.

"Hello … Ginny," Todd said, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

Somewhere, deep inside her heart, she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.

"Oh, have you told her already?" Ginny asked mildly.

Hermione felt as if a bomb had been dropped on her. No … her ears must be playing tricks on her. Ever so slowly, she turned around, staring at Ginny with disbelief in her eyes. The redhead in question was looking back at her with a cup of tea in her hand, but the concern on her face suddenly seemed so fake, so …  _ **rehearsed**_ that it sickened Hermione.

"Not exactly, but I do believe that the little Mudblood might have worked most of it out already," Todd said, amusement apparent in his voice.

"What a pity," Ginny said with an exaggerated sigh, "and to think that I've taken the time to make a cup of tea for her."

"Ginny … I thought … I thought you loved Harry," Hermione said, her voice close to a whisper.

She didn't understand. She'd always thought that Ginny fancied Harry … or had it all been an act?

"Oh." A look of genuine surprise appeared on Ginny's face before it turned into hilarity. "I'd thought that the little Mudblood would've been much more intelligent than this, but I suppose I can't hold it against her." Her brown eyes flickered over to the clock hanging on the wall. "And look at the time. I should be going home to dear Potter now. Some things need to be finished. Perhaps you and the little Mudblood can drop by in a few minutes, so I wouldn't need to explain things twice?"

With that said, she Disapparated, leaving a thoroughly confused and hurt Hermione behind.

So many theories were going through Hermione's head right now, but she didn't know which one was correct and which ones were wrong. She didn't have enough information. She didn't understand how and why Ginny would turn out like this. She didn't understand why Ginny would betray the person she loved and her family for  _ **him**_.

"Why? Ginny's not that kind of a person," Hermione said quietly, "and she'd always hated you."

He laughed softly. "You still haven't figured it out, dear? I'm thoroughly surprised. I've been told so many times about how terribly intelligent you are, especially after the supposed downfall of Lord Voldemort—"

"But you never really died, did you?" she asked, anger surfacing above her sorrow and shock.

"I admit that I thought it might've been foolish and rash of me to take on this identity, so close to the …  _ **cleverest**_  witch to walk the hallways of Hogwarts," he said tauntingly. "I was so surprised how it all worked out. I suppose this face does have its usefulness, doesn't it, Hermione? It's so incredibly easy for witches to fall under the spell of someone who has charming looks. I mean, really, do I really need to spell this out for every single Gryffindor?"

Pulling out a wand—for a moment, Hermione wondered if it was the same yew wand that Lord Voldemort had used before—he spelled "Todd Oliver Lammor" in the air before slashing his wand through the air. The letters immediately rearranged itself to "I am Lord Voldemort," reminding Hermione very much of what happened to Harry in the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago.

"Do you think I have nothing else better to do than to rearrange names around to make sure they're not an anagram of your name?" she seethed.

"I'm sure, such as snogging Todd behind Harry Potter's back," he said smugly.

She urged to hex that conceited look on his face, but that reminded her of her loss of magic.

"You were the one behind my loss of magic … and Harry's," she said as calmly as she could.

"Well, I can't say that I'm not, can I? But you were the one who'd given me the chance, dear," he said. "But I can't take all the credit for Potter's loss of magic. Well, I can, but it wasn't exactly me who'd done it—at least, not me in this body."

She stared at him, trying to figure what he meant, and then, an idea popped into her head. No … it couldn't be …

"You understand now? Perhaps you  _ **are**_  as intelligent as you were rumored to be," he mused. "But we ought to continue this conversation at Potter's place. I don't particularly enjoy explaining things twice."

She nearly snorted derisively at his words. Nearly everyone knew how much he loved hearing himself speak. Explaining things twice would merely be another reason to let him talk nonstop, so she doubted he wouldn't enjoy it. However, before she could say anything, he had already closed the distance between them, grabbed her, and Apparated.

~-0-~

Once they arrived at Harry and Ginny's house, Voldemort shoved her towards Harry, who was on the floor glaring at Ginny with hatred, pain, and sadness in his eyes. Nonetheless, he still caught Hermione when she fell towards him.

"Harry … Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked frantically in a low voice, when she pushed herself off Harry's body.

"She's not Ginny, Hermione," he said, breathing hard.

Hermione had guessed that much—from what Voldemort had said, and now with Harry's confirmation, she was positive that Ginny was no longer Ginny. Riddle had somehow fully possessed her, and Hermione was pretty sure that this happened in the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago.

But how could this have happened?

"I know … but I thought your scar always hurt when he was near. Why didn't it hurt throughout those years while we were at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, keeping her eyes on Voldemort and Ginny.

"Thankfully, you were just in time, so I wouldn't need to explain this twice," Ginny spoke up.

Voldemort sauntered over to one of the armchairs and sat down, resting his chin on one hand and lazily twirling the pale, white wand in the other. All the while, he kept his eyes on Hermione, presumably enjoying the myriad of expressions that appeared on her face.

"Ginny" sighed exaggeratedly. "It's just so uncomfortable to be in such a tiny body, and with Potter's magic, I can easily break out of this filthy blood-traitor's body—"

"No!" Harry protested, sitting up straight.

Hermione grabbed onto Harry's arm, afraid that he would do something rash and get himself hurt. They were without magic now, and she had no idea how much magic Voldemort and Ginny had stolen. Were Harry and she the only people they had stolen magic from? Or were there more victims? Hermione didn't know for sure, and the implications frightened her.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, so …  _ **touching**_. Ginerva's already gone, Harry Potter. She's been gone for quite a while already because you had been too late to save her.  _ **Again**_."

Hermione felt sick in the stomach, watching Riddle speak with Ginny's voice and through Ginny's mouth. It was obviously an even harder blow towards Harry—the mixture of horror and pain on his face was enough to tell.

"I knew it wouldn't have been possible to trick you with my Horcrux inside of you and your scar acting like a constant fire alarm," she continued to speak, tapping Ginny's wand rhythmically in her hand. "As convenient and ironic as it was to let you be the reason for my continued existence on Earth, I knew that I had to deal with that little problem before I got the chance to harm you, let alone kill you. So I waited, all those years, inside little Ginerva's body. She didn't even know I was there, biding my time, until her sixth year at Hogwarts."

So that was why Harry's scar hadn't been able to detect him. He hadn't exactly taken over Ginny's body, so to speak. It was sort of like Harry's situation, where the soul piece was dormant, yet "awake" enough to make conscious decisions and plans.

"Imagine my surprise when you never even suspected that there was something wrong with me when I went back to Hogwarts. As if Lord Voldemort would've allowed a small detail like the Weasleys being friends of Harry Potter slip by him. But of course Lord Voldemort wouldn't harm Ginerva Weasley—because a piece of his soul was living inside the little blood traitor. It was so invigorating to finally take over this body. Well, I sure it won't be as exhilarating as when I get my own body back again, but compared to all those years of listening to her think about how wonderful Harry Potter is, how attractive the great Harry Potter is … you can imagine my relief." Ginny's brown eyes gazed at Harry with mock innocence. "Did you know, Harry, that she pleaded me to let her go? Oh, she pleaded me so many times with that annoying little voice of hers to release her, to leave her body. 'Please, Tom, let me go. Please, Tom, I'm begging you. Please, Tom, don't hurt Harry. Please, Tom, hurt me instead. Please, Tom, I'll do anything, Tom. Just don't hurt Harry, Tom..' It all became so very boring and repetitive after a while."

"Shut up, Riddle," Harry whispered, tears shining in his eyes. Then in a stronger voice, he said, "Shut up. I  _ **know**_  Ginny. She's not like that. She would've fought against you till the last breath she had."

Ginny looked at Harry observantly before a broad smile appeared on her face.

"So she did," said Ginny softly. "She tried so desperately, albeit unsuccessfully, against me, trying to regain her body. She tried so hard to reach out to you, to show you some sign that she wasn't herself, but you never once noticed them, did you?"

A flash of realization flashed over Harry's face—he must have remembered something from the past that corresponded to what Riddle was saying. Hermione held onto his hand, praying that Harry wouldn't take Riddle's words seriously. Riddle was obviously trying to hurt Harry like this, and Hermione hoped against hope that Harry wouldn't let him succeed.

"You were too late, Potter, and poor little Ginny had to suffer for you incompetence. It makes me wonder what that old fool Dumbledore saw in you. Tell me, Potter, and let's be honest here: Did you really think that you would've gotten through first year of Hogwarts without the help of that little Mudblood beside you? The Chosen One … really? I wonder if Longbottom would've done a better job. Then again, maybe not. If it were Hermione up against me, I daresay, my road to victory might have been slightly more exciting."

"Harry's much better than you can ever be, Riddle. At least he'd never use such underhand ways to claim a victory," Hermione said angrily.

Ginny gazed at her, so calmly that it became slightly unnerving to Hermione.

"Didn't see you complaining about it while you were rolling around in bed with my counterpart," she said with a sneer.

A furious blush appeared on Hermione's cheeks, though she had no idea if it were from anger or from embarrassment.

"You tricked me. If I'd known that he was Voldemort—"

"—you still would've fallen for him," she said arrogantly. "You can't really tell me that you never once suspected that there was something wrong with 'Todd,' can you? Though I suppose I, or rather, the other I did his job rather magnificently."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Voldemort spoke up coldly.

"Ah, my apologies. I suppose I should leave that part of the explanation to you. Now, let's get back to Ginny and Potter, shall we?" Ginny asked rhetorically.

"You were the one who did something to Harry. You wiped his memory of how Tom Riddle looked like which was why Harry didn't recognize  _ **him**_ ," said Hermione, nodding towards Voldemort, "when they supposedly first met."

She didn't bother looking at Voldemort; she knew he had his eyes on her, but at the moment, she couldn't bear to even glance at him, let alone glare at him. Looking at him would remind her of everything that had happened and everything that she could've prevented—it would remind of her ultimate failure.

Ginny looked at her, a pleasant smile on her face. "Ten points to Gryffindor. I see that I've made the right decision in letting my basilisk Petrify you first, or else Harry here might've been quite a bit more successful in saving little Ginerva." Ginny's eyes scrutinized her from head to toe and then back again. "Tsk … such a pity. I would've welcomed you into my ranks."

A derisive snort left Hermione's lips. "As if I'm interested. Does it look like I'm mental? Perhaps you'd forgotten, but I'll gladly remind you, I'm a  _ **Muggle**_ -born witch. My parents are  _ **Muggles**_. My family members are _ **Muggles**_. I'm not about to join you on a rampage against everything that I am."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Hermione," Voldemort finally spoke up, his voice as warm and soothing as usual.

Hearing his voice—specifically, hearing him speak with that tone of voice that "Todd" had used with her wounded her. When he spoke coldly or viciously, she could almost pretend that he wasn't the person she'd loved and perhaps still loved.

"Don't …" she said quietly, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Don't speak to me."

"Everything can be different, Hermione. It's just a matter of choice right now—your choice, to be exact," Voldemort said evenly. "I can even promise you to spare Potter his life. After all, he's no longer a threat to me. If you swear your loyalty to me, I can be the merciful Lord and give you back your magic. I can even—"

She started laughing, almost hysterically. She'd tried to convince herself to remain calm and not break down in front of him, but what he was saying was too much for her to handle.

"I said, don't speak to me, Voldemort. I'm not interested. I'll never be interested, do you hear me? I don't care what you're offering, and I'll never join you. How dare you say these offers as if they're gifts for you to grant? You  _ **owe**_  Harry a life. You stole away his whole childhood by murdering his parents. You ripped his chance at being a normal teenager out of his hands by being a constant threat to his life. You ruined his relationship with Ginny by taking over her body," Hermione said, her voice eerily calm. "Does it look like I want anything to do with you?"

A cold smile appeared on Voldemort's face. "Perhaps not.  _ **Yet**_. But when the wizarding world followed by the Muggle world falls into my hands, do you think you can still speak so confidently?"

"You'll never take over the world. The other people will stop you," Harry spoke up angrily.

"Oh, do you really believe so, Harry dearest?" Ginny asked. "So utterly naïve. Did you think that I— _ **we**_ —" She indicated Voldemort and her. "—are not the same person you'd known. Without you in the equation, do you really think there are enough people to stand up to us? No … after an … enlightening conversation with one another, we've decided that your death isn't of much importance to us any longer." She leaned forward. "After all, hadn't your favorite Headmaster always gone on and on about things that are worse than death? After seeing your current conditions, I daresay that I would have to agree with him. Without your magic, you're hardly any threat to us."

"Surrender yourself, swear your loyalty to me, and I can be persuaded to reconsider your fate," Voldemort spoke up quietly.

"You know, we can be merciful Lord and masters if you serve us well," Ginny said. A lazy smile appeared on her face. "If you are a good boy, I might even be convinced to give you back your little freckled-face blood-traitor."

For a moment, hope flashed over Harry's eyes before they hardened again. "You liar."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Ginny clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "I'd thought you were so adamant about saving this body merely minutes ago."

"You're lying. I know you, Riddle. You lie for a living. You've lied to everyone years ago, you've lied to all your followers, you've lied to every and anyone you come across. I didn't believe you during my first year at Hogwarts, do you really think I'll believe you now?" Harry said.

For a moment, Hermione couldn't help but admire Harry. It was easy to see that he had been tempted by Riddle's offer. Harry loved Ginny. So, so much, and secretly, Hermione wouldn't blame Harry if he'd tried to save Ginny, but no. Harry still managed to stay strong even after being assaulted with some of the worst emotional attacks within the last hour.

Ginny grinned again. "Suit yourself."

"How did you steal our magic?" Hermione asked quietly.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Ginny questioned, a faux innocent expression on her face. "I suppose I can give you hint, or else you might pull out all that frizzy hair of yours. When was the first time you've experienced magic loss?"

Tibet. But that didn't explain …

Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "You … the Knights of Silence had been taken over—"

"—by Lord Voldemort," Voldemort said quietly while a victorious smirk appeared on Ginny's face.

Hermione couldn't help but looked towards the man she'd thought she'd fallen in love with.

"I suppose I can't blame you for not noticing something off about the incense there. You'd never been there before after all. It was one of the best ways to 'feed' the potion into your system, so to speak. That, and of course, some dark spells. It was all made awfully easy when your victim had no idea what was being cast on them," Voldemort said, his dark eyes sliding from Harry and then back to Hermione. "The first time I felt your power entering my system …" He closed his eyes in euphoria before he opened them again, mockery dancing merrily in his eyes. "I must confess that I'm surprised that I hadn't heard about you earlier. True, some of my followers had warned me that Potter had help, but I had been, unfortunately, overly … occupied by the prophecy. It had been … much more difficult than I had anticipated to get you to trust me. However, I'd chosen my alibi correctly, hadn't I? By pretending to be a Muggle, you didn't see the dangers of being with handsome, charming 'Todd Oliver Lammor', did you? I have to say that I was extremely lucky that your relative was marrying into such a large family, or else it might've been harder for me to slip into the family without you becoming suspicious."

A tinge of pride entered his eyes, and it made Hermione feel torn. On the one hand, Lord Voldemort was inadvertently praising her. Her! A Muggle-born witch! On the other hand, why should she care about what he thought about her? Even if she did love him and still, to some extent, loved him, it didn't change the fact that what he had done was vile and downright wrong.

Also, why did she lose her magic more quickly than Harry?

As if he'd read her mind, and perhaps he did, Voldemort leaned forward, his eyes never wavering from her face. "I'm afraid your intelligence was precisely what lead to my decision to … absorb your magic more quickly. You see, after Harry came to you with his problem, I'm certain that you would eventually try to find out more about it. You might even eventually come up with a solution to your little problem. No, I knew I had to stop you before you could find out more about it."

But he wasn't the one who'd sent her to Tibet; he didn't even know she was going to Tibet, neither did Ginny. Unless …

"Healer Nerys is a Death Eater," Hermione whispered, almost to herself.

"One of my very best," Voldemort replied, his beautiful lips curving upwards into a smirk.

"So that means that …"

"Yes," he answered. "Paulina Marcus is also one of my most faithful followers." He chuckled. "Sorry I haven't sent you a memo with a list of my Death Eaters. It would've made your job so much easier, wouldn't it?"

Hermione closed her eyes, anger as well as defeat battling inside her mind. Voldemort's lackeys had managed to infiltrate positions of importance; how that had been allowed to happen baffled and frightened her. WIth Harry and her indisposed and unable to contact anyone, Voldemort's plan to take over the world was not a possibility; it was tomorrow's headlines.

"It's your call now, Hermione," Voldemort said softly. "Your fate lies in my hands now. Of course I can easily kill you, or I can even Obliviate you and let you live out the rest of your life, never knowing that there's another world out there until the Muggle world succumbs to me." He paused, giving her mind enough time to envision how awful a life that would be. "However, Lord Voldemort always rewards those who serve him well. Swear your loyalty to me, and I promise no harm will be done to you, your family … and perhaps even your friends, on top of returning you your magic."

"You have no other option, Harry, Hermione," Ginny said. "Join us, and we'll rebuild the world together. I don't even have to target Muggle-borns, if that was what you were worried about."

Voldemort stood up from his chair, walked over to Ginny, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let them think about it for a while." His eyes slid over to Hermione. "It's not as if they have the power to escape right now. We still have other plans to set in motion."

A bright smile appeared on Ginny's face. "Oh yes."

Hermione had an idea that she probably didn't want to know what those two Voldemorts were planning right now. Anything that made him smile as if Christmas had come early was never a good idea.

Ginny looked at Hermione and Harry again. "Hopefully, you two won't choose the rash, idiotic decisions that Gryffindors always make. We are giving you quite a good deal right now, despite the many times you've thwarted us."

With that said, she Disapparated, leaving only Harry, Hermione and Voldemort in the house.

Waving his wand around, Voldemort placed several wards around the apartment before turning towards Harry and Hermione.

"I suggest the two of you think over our proposal. Though we can be tolerant, our patience do not last forever."

Casting one last possessive look towards Hermione, he then Disapparated, too.

Hermione let out a deep sigh, recalling what Voldemort had said. He'd mentioned that she might find a solution to their problem which meant that there was a possibility that she and Harry might get their magic back. However, how would she get out of here? Voldemort had placed wards all over the apartment. Even if he had erected the most basic of wards, they couldn't get out without their magic.

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, slumping against the couch behind her. "We … we don't have any other option."

Harry peered at her. "Do you … are you planning to join him?"

"No!" Hermione nearly shrieked. In a calmer voice, she repeated, "No. I can't." She shook her head. "I can't, not after all of this. It's wrong. It's …"

"But we might never get our magic back," Harry said quietly. "And I don't think he was jesting when he said that we might get Obliviated and sent to live as regular Muggles."

Suddenly, he laughed bitterly, causing Hermione to look at him strangely.

He shook his head. "If only I still had that bottle of Felix Felicis with me now, eh?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer, so she kept silent.

Harry sighed and looked towards the ceiling. "I guess we're trapped here, huh?"

"I guess," Hermione answered sadly. "I mean, I don't think we'd be able to leave via the Floo network; he's bound to have done something to it, and I doubt owls can fly through the wards he'd set up. We're cut off from the rest of the world."

All of a sudden, Harry grabbed Hermione, his eyes alight with renewed hope.

~-0-~

Voldemort stared at the remains of Potter's apartment in suppressed rage.

The whole front side of the apartment was completely obliterated, as if someone had taken a flamethrower and burnt down that wall. The furniture inside were covered in soot, and the prisoners that were supposed to be kept inside were nowhere to be seen.

Seconds later, Ginny Apparated beside him.

"Found anything?" Voldemort asked, his voice harsh.

Ginny thrusted her hand under Voldemort's nose. His eyes narrowed when he saw the single Galleon coin. Carved on it was a crude but clear word: Help.

"Protean Charm," Ginny spat out. "It was given to members of Dumbledore's Army by  _Hermione_  in their fifth year. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that most of the members still liked to keep it around, so that they could show off. Such as  _ **Neville Longbottom**_."

Upon hearing this, Voldemort could no longer hold back his anger. He pointed his wand at the nearest tree and blew it up. People who'd been standing by it started screaming and running in different directions, though nobody seemed to suspect where the spell had come from.

Ginny stepped towards Voldemort, lowering his arm in the process. "Get a hold of yourself. You can't let that little Mudblood get to you now."

No, he could not let Granger get to him now, not when things were finally settling into place, and he was more than prepared to take over the Ministry once again. It didn't matter if Granger and Potter did tell the whole world that Lord Voldemort was back. It wouldn't change the fact that they were both without magic now. The rest of the riffraffs were negligible, and once the world was under Lord Voldemort's thumb, he could comb through the population and find the two of them.

_Make no mistake about that, Hermione Granger. Lord Voldemort will find you one day, and you'd better be ready to pay the debts you owe me._

~-0-~

 _Fin_.

~-0-~


End file.
